The GreyHatter (Completed)

Chapter 3

"Hey," the girl called to me. I ignored her voice completely only trying to concentrate on my IPod. It was not working. She was constantly tapping on my shoulder, trying to get my attention. "What?" I asked rudely.

"You're listening to ColdPlay, are you?" she asked. I gave her a mere nod then cranned my neck to look for a Taxi. After looking at me with pure interest, she asked if I was a thug. I looked at her with disbelief. "How annoying are you?" I blurted. "You have bad social skills," she snapped bluntly.

I raised my eyebrows in fury. It was exactly what my therapist said to me whenever she tries to get me to feel comfortable around people."I'm sorry," the girl sighed. "I shouldn't have said that." "But you did," I answered bluntly. Changing the subject, the girl placed out her hand. "I'm Ivy," she introduced.  "Jordan," I lied, not shaking her hand. "I have to go."

"Wait," Ivy cried. "Here's my number." She took out a pen and a piece of paper out her bag then began writing quickly. I started looking at the girl with pure curiosity. "Just in case," she beamed, walking to the direction her ex-boyfriend came from.

I stared at her number and thought about throwing it out, but then decided to keep it in my pocket. I was back at my apartment bathroom, scooping water into my hands then splashing it on my face. I thought about calling my therapist for advice on how to avoid conflicts that doesn't involve yourself, but I'm pretty sure she wouldn't be happy to see me again.

There was no way I'm calling my mother, the pig, and his worthless piglets because  they were dead to me. The only person who'd ever understood me was my father, but right now he was defending himself from brain dead thugs.

My cellphone rang on my sink counter. I got out of the bathtub, put a bathrobe on my damp body, and hurried to answer it. It was Mom. I pushed the answer call button then held it up to my ear.
"Hey Wyatt," Mom beamed. "How are you doing?" I walked back to my computer desk then checked one of the monitors that has the footage of my mother, hovering the phone to her ear.

"Wyatt, are you there?" she asked hopefully. When I didn't answer, Mom starts crying. "Please, talk to me," she begged. "It's been four years-" I hung up on her then watched the screen. I saw Mom looked disgusted at the phone and threw it with all of her might.

Suddenly, Dr. Jekyll came into the house, looking exhausted from work. "Dear, what's wrong?" he asked. I set my jaw straight. What was that man planning? "It's nothing," she insisted, wiping away her tears. "I'll go make dinner." As Mom was pulling out the lettuce and tomatoes for the salad, she asked, "Can you lend me some money?" The pig stared at her in disbelief. "I thought you have ten thousand dollars in your account." he said.

"The money has disappeared," she reluctantly said. "I don't know what happened to it." I raised my eyebrow in suspicion. The money couldn't have vanished. Everything was supposed to be in order: Our bank deposit box is full of cash and fresh documents of the house.

Someone who is dumb enough to steal the cash would have stolen Mom's or Dad's identity. But I have not gotten any alerts from other black hatters who would do it otherwise.  I wouldn't be surprised that pig isn't wetting his pants, because he is a "hard-working" lawyer with endless supply of checks, money, and everything he needs to start somewhere. So,why was Mom the target?

"Calm down dear," the pig reassured. "I can't," Mom sobbed. "I need to pay the bills, to keep this house afloat." "I can't just loan you my money, sweetie," the pig groaned. "Can't or won't," I thought angrily. "What do you mean you can't?" she barked.  While they were arguing, I turned to the second monitor across from me then hacked the pig's and my mother's  bank statements.

I stared at the screen in horror. Clarence's cash has been having major decreases in his account. From September twelfth to May fifth, Clarence's money was paid by the countless complaints about the product.  Thirty complaints came from random people, including a retired waitress named Kristen Haven whose computer has shorted out after she had bought it.

Other withdrawals, like paying his employees,  advertising, and replacing the people he just fired.  Last time I checked, Clarence's money should have been four-thousand, three hundred and twenty five cents. Before Mom used to have fifteen thousand two-hundred dollars, now the money was down to five-hundred dollars.

This could only mean one thing: Clarence has stolen my parents's hard earned money.